


You Can't Tango With Two

by EmoBean



Series: Caught Between A Bad Guy And No Good [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Domestic, Fluff, Frerard, Kinky, M/M, More mafia sin, Rimming, Romantic Relationship, Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Toys, petekey, this is gonna have some more fluff than the first book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmoBean/pseuds/EmoBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard finds himself stuck in his past with Frank, so why can he see a whole future with Bert?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been two whole months since Gerard saw Frank, since he had been with the mafia, held tight in the confines of the stronghold.

He had settled in right away, still constantly plagued with the fear that Frank would come after him, kill him, rape him, beat him. Every dark street corner felt to him like they harboured several of Frank’s men. He swept Mikey’s flat for bugs, cameras, microphones, anything that Frank could be spying on him with.

He found five, but he knew there would be more. Many, many more.

He’s glad, yet destroyed from the fact that Frank hasn’t come for him yet. Did he not care? Did he not love him?

Soon, he needed a job. Mikey’s flat wasn’t cheap, and he did need money for food. So he compiled a – mostly falsified – resume and got a job at a nearby coffee shop. As if he actually was a manager for a small downtown shop that couldn’t provide a reference.

It was his Friday shift at Starbucks. It was late in the afternoon, meaning there wouldn’t be many customers. He hummed out a tune as he wiped down the machines, his earphone cord bouncing against his body as he worked.

There was no one there with him, and he often enjoyed closing up on a Friday because he could keep to himself in a public place for once. It was peaceful, and he enjoyed listening to some music alone.

Turning his earphones up louder, he removed one, dancing around with the rag in his hands as he sang along to the lyrics.

The bell sounded at the entrance of the shop, a blush rising to Gerard’s cheeks at the thought of someone seeing him dancing embarrassingly. “We’re closed,” Gerard yelled over his shoulder, bunching his earphones up and shoving them with his phone into his apron pocket.

He’s glad that he put his phone away before turning around, otherwise it would’ve fallen and smashed on the floor of the shop, and he could not afford another screen repair. 

A remorseful-looking Bert was on the other side of the counter, smiling sheepishly with his hands clasped together. He looked different, hair cut shorter, more tattoos. There were no fresh track marks on his inner elbows, something that was frequent when Gerard was around. After all, it was what all of their money was spent on; drugs for Bert.

“H-hi, Gee. It’s great to see you,” he stuttered out, looking like he was scared that Gerard would bolt like a nervous animal.

A sigh of relief came from Bert as Gerard smiled sweetly, a warm feeling pooling in his stomach from being on the receiving end of such a beautiful grin.

“You too, Bert! How’ve things been since… I left?” Gerard trailed off, shuffling closer to the counter.

“Well, I went to rehab for a month, then some group therapy sessions. So I haven’t had drugs in a few months now. What have you been doing? Things with Frank going well?” Gerard could hear the nervous tone in his voice, the curiosity weaved within the tones.

Gerard frowned a little. “If things were going well I would be here,” he muttered, looking down and shuffling his feet.

“Sorry for asking,” Bert began nervously, “I didn’t mean to…”

“No!” Gerard shook his head, “I kind of ran away. Mafia life isn’t for me, and Frank wasn’t the nicest person ever,” his thought path directed to Frank, the way his touch felt on his neck, on his thighs, those soft lips touching his as they-

“Neither was I. Sorry for barging in when you guys were closed, I’ll leave.”

Gerard nodded, wiping his sweaty palms on his legs. Bert hesitated, opening his mouth.

“Do you wanna meet up? Tomorrow at that night club across the road?” Bert mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“S-sure, we can catch up a little. Is eight o’clock good?” Gerard twiddled his fingers together.

“Sounds great,” Bert smiled, waving at Gerard before stumbling out the door and disappearing into the night.

What the fuck had Gerard gotten himself into?

***

He stood in front of the full length mirror in the spare bedroom of Mikey’s house, tugging at his tight black jeans and muscle tee. 

The place that Bert had invited him to wasn’t fancy, and he knew he was going to be dancing all night. He enjoyed losing himself in the beat, but the growing chance of running into some of Frank’s men was worrying.

Pushing his thoughts aside, he went to the bathroom to do his makeup. He smudged some eye pencil around his eyes, tossing his hair about in the mirror. Checking the time, he knew he would be late.

It was 7:45 and he had fifteen minutes to walk there. Grabbing his jacket, phone and some cash, he locked up and ran outside.

Once he arrived, he shrugged off his leather jacket and scanned the room for Bert, smiling as his eyes landed upon him. Bert looked nervous, scared even. Gerard dismissed it.

Making his way over, Bert smiled once his gaze shifted to the fiery-haired man. Waving, he summoned the waiter over as Gerard sat down on a bar stool.

“Four vodka shots please,” Bert looked over at Gerard for approval, to which the other man just nodded and smiled. The waiter walked off to grab their drinks for them. “You look radiant, Gerard. Really great,” Bert smiled, holding out his hand to which Gerard took gratefully, squeezing.

Bert opened his mouth to say more, but the waiter came over with their shots, the liquid spilling a little. 

“Bottoms up,” Gerard giggled, tipping the scorching liquid into his mouth. It burned the whole way down, both of them grimacing before handling the second shot.

“Let’s go and dance before we pass out,” Bert suggested, leaving a few bills under their glasses and tugging Gerard along.

The beat was steady, intoxicated people stumbling to the thumps that vibrated in Gerard’s ears. It was sweaty, cramped and hot, the two of them compacted together tightly in the throng of bodies.

Gerard made the first move, wrapping both of his arms around Bert’s neck and moving with him, pressed together at three different parts of their bodies.

Bert leaned down further, lowering his head next to Gerard’s, pressing them impossibly closer.

After a while, the beat changed to something slower, more sensual. The effects of the alcohol started to wash over the smaller figure, causing his mind to scramble and his thoughts to jumble.

Gerard turned around, pressing his back into Bert’s front. The taller man’s hands reflexively closed around the red-haired boy’s waist, digging into the flesh exposed from where his shirt had ridden up.

Leaning into his ear, Bert shouted out to him. “I missed us dancing together like this.”

Gerard was too far gone to mull over the words, nodding instead of speaking. With a hidden smile on his face, he pushed his ass back further, coming into contact with Bert’s crotch.

Bert stopped moving.

“Let’s get out of here, huh?”

The alcohol had prevented him from seeing the figure, unmoving in the swell of bodies and sweat. Unmoving, watching, waiting.

***

Gerard woke up with a mild headache, completely naked except for an unrecognisable oversized shirt and his panties. 

Looking around, he couldn’t recognise where he was. It looked like his old apartment, the one he shared with Bert. The room was the same shape, the dresser in the same place but…

A feeling of sudden realisation dawned upon him. That’s because it actually was his apartment, only much different. The bedside tables were clear, except for the lamp and an alarm clock. There were no old lines of coke, no empty cans of beer or broken and used needles.

The walls had a fresh coat of paint, the carpet clean and stain-free. There wasn’t a lingering smell of mould anymore, just fresh linen and the scent from the roses in a vase on the nightstand.

Getting up, Gerard followed the scent of bacon and eggs, making his way to the kitchen. Bert was standing faced away from him, sliding the food out of the pan and onto two plates. He turned around abruptly, eyebrows raising at the sight of Gerard.

“Hey, take a seat and I’ll bring this down,” Bert said as he grabbed some cutlery from the drawers. Gerard looked shell-shocked, looking around at the tidy abode surrounding him. He tentatively took a seat, inhaling sharply as the other man placed the food in front of him. 

“You look starved,” Bert commented as Gerard wolfed down the food, smiling shyly up at him.

“I haven’t really cooked a lot for myself since I l-left Frank, so this is delightful.”

Gerard stayed silent after that, his eyes moving wondrously along the clean walls.

“It’s different, I know,” Bert chuckled, reaching across the table and grabbing Gerard’s hand in his own. “No more coke or needles. But I still smoke, I can’t shake that habit,” Bert said, his face lighting up as Gerard giggled.

“Listen, Bert, did we…” Gerard trailed off, gesturing at his barely clad figure. Bert shook his head sharply.

“As soon as we got home you passed out, so I changed you out of your clothes and into something clean and comfy,” a blush set upon Bert’s cheeks as he explained the predicament, his hand fidgeting in Gerard’s. 

“That’s okay… do you want to, uh, hang out together today?” Gerard suggested lightly, the swirling clench in his gut backing up his imminent fear of rejection.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Cool.”


	2. A/N (trigger warning)

This is why I have not been uploading.

A few weeks ago, a boy from my school had begun to talk to me.

For a few days he pandered to me, told me I was beautiful. He said he wanted to kiss my scars, said he wanted to love me and care for me.

We arranged to hang out on a Friday afternoon after the school sports carnival.

He said he wanted to tell me a secret, something special just between the two of us. I agreed, and he said we should meet in the toilets outside a local college.

I thought it was an odd choice, but he obviously wanted to tell me a secret... So why not be secretive about it?

We both went to the toilet block and locked ourselves in the biggest one. I smiled at him and asked him what he wanted to talk to me about.

He kissed me.

I didn't particularly want to be with him, especially since I was struggling with identifying as a (secret) bisexual. I found myself in a position that I am often in, where I do not want to turn someone down but I don't want to be with them.

I kissed him back. After all... I'm underage and I thought the whole thing was so romantic and cute. How nice of him that he wanted to get me alone just so he could kiss me.

I told him that we didn't need to be in a bathroom for him to kiss me. He disregarded what I said.

We kissed again. And again. And again. In the middle of it all, he kicked off his shoes.

He took off his pants.

I told him I didn't want to be involved with him like that. He shushed me, said that I could trust him.

We kissed again, but this time he took off my pants. I slapped his hands and told him to stop.

He laughed and smiled, reassuring me and saying that everything was fine, that I could trust him. I felt sick to my stomach.

He asked me to lie down. I did. He sat between my legs and kissed the scars that littered my thighs. He said I was better than that.

He asked me to take my shirt off. I said no. I told him that was far enough; I wasn't interested in anything sexual.

It's like what I was saying went right over the top of his head, he took my shirt off.

I was on the brink of tears when he began removing my underwear. He asked if I was okay, not even looking up as I shook my head.

For minutes, he rubbed against me before taking his underwear off.

I wiped a few of my tears away and told myself I was being silly... He said I could trust him, I wasn't thrashing around or anything so it wasn't rape.

My parts came in direct contact with his seminal fluid, something I knew I could get pregnant from, and if he had any STD's I now had them.

I told him to stop, I wasn't comfortable. I never was. He said everything was fine, if he accidentally slipped in he'd pull out.

I clenched every muscle in my body hard enough so he physically couldn't get inside of me.

He tried to push his fingers in me; I'm only fifteen, I prided myself in keeping everything physically pure for my first serious husband. When he couldn't get his fingers in the first time, he pushed my legs apart and forced them in.

It was so painful.

I could feel myself being debauched, impurified. He tried to put himself in again but it didn't work.

He gave up eventually, jerking off until he came on my stomach.

After he was done he got dressed and said he'd text me later.

Later on he said that it wasn't rape, I liked it and I consented. I knew if I ever tried to say something about it he'd drag my ass in the dirt.

I was supposed to get my period a few days after the incident.

I waited and waited and waited, but it didn't come.

For a whole week, I stopped thinking about gossip, who was dating who, what my formal dress was going to look like. I saved up forty dollars to buy a clearblue pregnancy test.

I started making up plans for what would happen if I got pregnant. Would I get someone to punch me so hard in the stomach I got a miscarriage?

Even after all the horrors I had heard about coat hanger abortions, I researched it for hours.

As for STD's? I decided that if I had contracted something, no matter how curable it was, I was going to try and kill myself again.

(As many of you may know from one of my last notes, I tried to kill myself a while ago)

After all, I could only get properly diagnosed by my GP, meaning if I wanted to know if I had contracted something, I had to tell my mother.

That was something I had a deep and rational fear about.

So.

The only reason I'm able to say this now is because I did get my period... As for diseases? To put it simply, I don't know.

So that is why I haven't updated in a while.

I'm sorry if you miss the story. I have half a chapter written so if you want that I'll upload it.

It's just that every time I try and read or write Frerard, I think back to the incident.

I know it was my fault; I didn't tell him to stop clearly enough. I was the one who walked in the bathroom, no one forced me to.

It was just so stupid of me.

It was mostly my fault.

So I hope you've all had fun in these past few weeks.

P.S this also accounts for why I haven't been reading A Finding Of A Mate or whatever the fuck it's called.

Have a good life, and if you don't hear from me again you'll know why.

Hope to update again soon.

Love, -D


End file.
